


Warrior of One shots

by VennReverie



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Romance, Smut, will update as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-05-13 15:13:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19253749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VennReverie/pseuds/VennReverie
Summary: Spoilers for Shadowbringers and possibly beyond!Small moments of NPCs and the Warrior of Light. Angst, fluff, a lot of kissing, confessions.





	1. The Beacon (Aymeric/WoL)

The Crystal Tower. A structure of Allagan creation.  
It loomed in the sky, piercing, a sigil for the warrior's next path that she must take. 

They had found the beacon. The one the mysterious person had ripped the warrior’s soul out of her body to warn her about. Her friends, the Scions, still remained in a deathless slumber. Her stomach churned at the thought as she stared at the tower ahead of her in strong resolve. 

With the help of the Ironworks, they had successfully managed to scan the beacon. Using it’s data a portal had been created, based at the bottom of the Crystal Tower. 

Where it led, she thought, she did not know. 

If anything were to strike any ilm of fear in her, it was the fear of the unknown. The fear of not knowing what lay ahead for her, and her friends. Their fates unknown and the weight of their well being sat on her shoulders heavily, keeping her grounded in determination. 

It was sunset, the Tower gleaned, fractals of light speckled and glowed from within it’s translucent walls. An azure spire against a burning orange sky. 

She adjusted the greatsword on her back, and began to make her way towards the paved road that led to the base of the tower. 

Greeted by Cid, he looked a little forlorn as he explained that they did not know how stable the portal would remain, and if you would be ok entering. 

But there was no other option, this was what she had to do. Tataru stood nearby, tearful. The warrior leant down, telling her it’d be ok, she would return and bring the souls of her friends with her. 

Standing in front of the portal, the Allagan technology thrummed, fractals of blue stood fragmented, unnatural light waited for her.

Members of the Ironworks stood, watching the warrior stare intently ahead. She bowed her head, closing her eyes to steel herself for what lay ahead.

There was a rushing of clawed footsteps from behind, scattering down the rocky path and across the ruins. The warrior ignored it for a moment until Cid broke the silence with surprise. 

“Lord Commander, what brings you here on such short notice?” 

She spun on her heel, opening her eyes. 

Ser Aymeric de Borel leapt off the chocobo with grace, a swirl of blue and gold armour. He was walking towards her, his expression looked pained, a fall from the usual polite demeanor he carried. 

Upon realising Cid had asked him a question his expression changed, in a moment of flurry he spoke as he still caught his breath from his frantic race to the Tower. 

“I do apologise. I came here to see the Warrior of Light, I caught wind of her new endeavor and wished to speak with her before she ventures forth.” 

He was standing not only a few yalms away from her now, his clear blue eyes bore into her own. She could feel her heart swelling to the point she couldn’t breathe at his sudden appearance. Her face burned. 

And yet her eyes welled slightly with tears, knowing the Lord Commander had come to see her not for Alliance talk, but for something much more personal. 

\--- 

He was looking at her with desperation, not realising that other people could see him. He didn’t care. 

It had been Estinien who had come to him, telling him he had been watching over her since he saved her from the final blow from Zenos. Whisperings of an Allagan artifact, namely a ‘beacon’ had come to the elezen’s ears and he pieced together than the WoL was to potentially venture to another unknown. 

Whether she came back, however, was a question Aymeric wished not to ask, a thought he wished not to indulge.  
But he knew he had to tell her how he felt. 

The Lord Commander and the Warrior of Light stood, overlooking the ruins where the portal had been created, a little privacy had been requested by him. 

She folded her arms, tilting her head and smiling at him broadly. When was the last time she did that? With everything that had gone on, to see her smile made his chest well. 

“Aymeric, what did you wish to speak to me about?” She spoke, making eye contact with him.

He fumbled, trying to keep his stature in balance so he would not slip, he just wished to tell her there and then, to let forth the boundless words he wished to share about how she was a graceful warrior on the battlefield, but when in his company outwith, she made his heart sing in ways he had never felt. 

“I daresay it’s unusual for you to be so quiet around me.” The warrior said, stepping forward towards him, “Pray, tell me what ails you.” 

She rested a hand on his arm, looking up at him with eyes that glistened, dewy with the danger of tears. 

He felt his throat dry up, he could tell she knew he had not come here for want of talk of business.

“I... My lady I wish not to burden you with something so trivial before you depart.” He looked to his left, gazing over the ruins, “I don’t know what I was thinking. Clearly I was not if I wished to rush out here so suddenly to see you.” 

“It has been one moon since the battle with Zenos.” The warrior said, “It warms my heart to see your face once more after such time.” 

He felt winded, his insides felt like they couldn’t accommodate his heart anymore. A warmth spread across his face as her hand grazed across his. 

He longed to crush his lips against hers, to feel her against his skin. In this moment, it was all he could think about. 

\---

It had been something unspoken between them for quite some time. The way the handsome elezen gazed at her spoke volumes of how he felt. Often in meetings with the Scions, the warrior and the knight would exchange humorous quips, idle flirtations that would pass over the most unaware of people. 

It wasn’t until Alphinaud had caught wind of this that he would often tease the Warrior of Light, letting her bat him away playfully and stare longingly at the sky for a moment before shaking herself to her senses. 

To find love in these trying times, when war with the Empire was in its heat, was a dangerous thing.

“It is… awfully selfish of me to ask, that you don’t go.” Aymeric said, breaking the silence. His face flushed with shame from his request. “I know that you must.” 

She looked at him sadly “It is true, I must. There is no other way. I must find them.” 

“But even the Warrior of Light must know her limits,” Aymeric started, “I could enlist some of my knights to-” 

“No,” she interrupted, “I was contacted, it is me he wants.” 

Aymeric’s arms flew to his sides. “I can’t-” His fists clenched. 

“I can’t let you go.” 

His words were strained, forced from his throat in a moment of desperation. 

The knight felt calloused yet soft fingers entwine with his own. He looked down.

“I feel there is a truth here that we both are harbouring and finding hard to share.” She spoke, a small sad smile upon her lips. He squeezed her hand tightly, pulling her close to his chest. 

He uttered her name gently for the first time since he had arrived.

“You know damn well how I feel.” Aymeric said, his chest heaving, leaning over slightly to shelter her, holding her head against the curve of his neck. 

“Please,” she begged. “Please don’t-” 

“You know I love you.” He said.

“Please don’t!” She choked, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. “Please.” 

He felt the fabric of his armour grow damp with tears. Her harrowed crying was all that could be heard for the next few moments. He held her tightly, his long arms wrapped around her.

He felt his heart ache at every sob, a throbbing that pained him because he knew she had to go. He tried to fight back his own tears, scrunching his brow, glad she could not see him as so.

“I can’t. I can’t say it back. I’m scared.” The warrior kept her face buried against his chest. He gently stroked her hair, letting his fingers linger delicately. 

“Pray, don’t feel you have to respond,” Aymeric said, his voice low and gentle but sincere, “I just wished to let you know how I felt, for I could not keep it to myself much longer.” 

“I want to. I really do. Don’t you ever dare think I don’t feel the same.” She broke away from his hold, looking up at him angrily. “It isn’t about that.” 

Ah yes, the short temper of the Warrior of Light, Aymeric mused, a small interruption in the otherwise angst like situation they were both in. Cold swept into Aymeric’s armour as the warrior paced away, turning to look over at the Tower. 

The sun had set, a thin line of dusk scorched across the horizon, as inky blue and black gradients swept across the ceiling of Eorzea, stars speckled like glittering magic across the night sky. 

It was the first time since he had met her once again, that he realised she had changed. 

The afterglow of the sunset framed her, and he took note of her complete change of attire. 

The sweeping ornate steel of her armour, gold and brilliant with the blue fabric she usually adorned had changed (he knew she chose blue as a way to dote on him, for the shade she picked was as close to his Ishgardian armour as possible).

It was now black, a uniform of Tataru’s creation, jutting fabric at the shoulders, a large scarf adorned her neck, a cape of jagged edges swooned from her back. Leather buckles accompanied by leather boots all hugged her nimble but muscled figure, her hair swaying in the night breeze.

She turned to face him, her arms folded again, wiping the tears from her puffy eyes. She gave him a lopsided smile, embarrassed. But he could see the fear still laden within her expression.

She was different, recent events had changed her.

“What are you afraid of?” Aymeric said, stepping forward, with the need to comfort her once again. He ran both his hands along her arms, slowly loosening hers before running his arms around her hips, entangling her body against his. 

He gently placed a kiss on the top of her head, taking in her warmth, how she always smelled comforting even when in the middle of ancient war torn ruins. 

“Aymeric…” she breathed, her touch drifting across his armour. “I-” 

As he looked down his nose brushed against hers. 

“I’m sorry. If I say it, it becomes real. I don’t want to lose you Aymeric. I… I already lost so many people.” Her voice was slow, choked. 

“I will crumble if I lost you, my Lord.” 

Aymeric lifted his head, his azure eyes bathed in the light of the tower, glistening slightly as he held back tears. His heart stopped, his lips dry as the moment they both existed in - This moment, felt like forever. 

He closed his eyes, his lips forming a straight line. 

“I understand, my lady, I wish not to burden you.” 

 

\--- 

 

It was hard not to feel disappointed, or heartbroken? 

Aymeric shook his head, trying to shed these thoughts from his mind, it was selfish.  
Though the heavy feeling of someone dragging down his chest into the ground would not leave him. 

It was hard to ignore the feeling that his legs felt dense, and yet his armour felt light, as if it had scattered into the winds behind him. He felt an uncomfortable feeling of numb, cold, and yet, at the same time, as if a great fire of yearning was burning slowly from within.

Yes, he thought. This is heartbreak. 

As they both returned to the main ruins, people turned to watch as the Warrior of Light walked forward, pacing slowly towards the portal. 

They had been holding hands and walking in silence as they made their way back. Gentle squeezes every now and then was their way of telling each other what they felt.  
Aymeric held onto this comfort as the Warrior of Light slowly let his hand go, the lingering touch of her fingers danced across his palm, a gentle touch he’d savour for as long as he could. She looked behind her shoulder, eyes red from tears. 

A small smile formed and she lifted her hand up to give a silent goodbye. He felt his throat catch as he gave her a small wave back, trying to remain composed as he could.

Cid nodded at her, as he stepped forward to give her a hug, patting her on the back, exchanging words of good luck.

Her cloak billowed behind her as the warrior stepped forward, ready to delve into what dangers lay ahead. 

Aymeric couldn’t watch. He couldn’t watch the woman he was in love with be wrenched away from him yet again. 

His mind cast back to when Estinien appeared after the battle with Zenos, her body limp. That brief moment of assumption that her life had left her felt like her had been shot through the body with Estinien’s spear. A sudden shock, coldness, plunging through his stomach like an icy dagger at great speed.

It felt like this again, only instead of it being of great speed… 

… It felt like someone had slowly sank a great jagged sword into him, searing, numbing, twisting, as if the blade were slowly and painfully seeking something to wrench out from within. 

His heart. 

A strangled cry of words escaped his mouth. 

“Please, My Lady, do take care and safe travels!”

The Warrior of Light stopped and turned to face him, giving him one last smile. 

That was it, her face forever engraved into his memories, he needed to get away.  
The Elezen knight turned to make his way to his Chocobo. 

She would come back all healthy and well, he knew it. He prayed to Halone for it.

To see the light returned to her eyes as she sat in the infirmary bed in the congregation after the battle with Zenos brought him much relief. It was hard to refrain from showing how elated he was as he embraced her, curling his chin over her head, sweeping her close to him. 

Aymeric knew she was strong, determined and powerful. But in those moments before, where she lay dormant, the Warrior of Light had never looked so fragile and battle worn. He nearly admitted at that time how he felt but it was clear she was troubled by her soul being called to, the visions she confided to tell him for she trusted him. 

He remembered her face when she described seeing her companions, Lord Hien, Lyse and Yugiri strewn like ragdolls around Zenos, his mask shattered, showing one lucid blue eye, fierce with bloodlust. 

Something distant and dark broiled in her once usual clear eyes. Surrounded by death and hurt, she needed space to compose herself once again. 

He was ruminating, the pounding in his ears wouldn’t stop as he made his way to his mount.

And in those moments as his heart yearned and his mind spiralled...

...He understood with great clarity why she did not want to lose anyone, anymore.

 _The pain, the pain drives you, My Lady,_ Aymeric thought to himself. 

In that one moon ere they met again at the Crystal Tower, the Warrior of Light had changed, both mentally and physically. 

The same woman who grasped firmly at his cape as he walked. 

Who caused him to turn on his heel with such speed.  
Who nearly tripped over himself as arms wound their way around his neck, pulling his head down.

Whose lips feverishly crushed against his, damp with tears. 

She was crying again, as her lips felt soft and swollen, brushing against his with great passion. He leaned into her more, sweeping her off her feet, drowning in the depths of the kiss. 

Their lips parted, tongues finding each other and gently tangling in a longing dance. Her hands skimmed through his raven hair, circling themselves within thick strands.

He sighed in bliss, his heart felt full. He was burning, the fire would consume him if they didn’t stop. But it was delicious, something he had craved to taste for many moons. 

“I love you too. So very much.” The warrior said, her voice laced with wanting and Aymeric’s heart leapt. “I promise you I will come back to you. I promise!”

She traced the outline of his jaw with her thumb, drinking in the alluring gaze of his eyes, his lips parted and he ghosted them across her hand. 

Through the tears and darkness and resolve, she smiled broadly, her eyes creasing, absolute with happiness. 

The smile he had grown to fall in love with.

It was real, their feelings for each other were real. No amount of wars or worlds or realms could take that truth from both of them.

“My Lady…” Aymeric breathed, sounding husky as he lay soft kisses across her face, using a knuckle to gently wipe away tears. 

“I know you will.”


	2. A lighthearted prank (Hien/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something involving Hien being a bit of a tease to the WoL ;)

The Warrior of Light sighed blissfully, sinking further into the waters of the spring, letting its warmth enveloped her in comfort. 

Tucked away atop a hill in Yanxia, nestled among high rocks was a spring the warrior had figured no one often came to. It’s water undisturbed by people, several plum blossom trees dotted throughout, the warrior had discovered it one day when flying on her Yol, idly when taking an afternoon off from her duties (something that was rare for the champion of Eorzea, no, the realm at this point). 

Gently, she closed her eyes, leaning her head back and letting out one long sigh. This is perfect, she thought. It soon became her favourite afternoon retreat whilst she remained in Doma for the time being. 

That time of peace was soon cut short. 

A thick breeze swirled throughout the spring, blossom petals swirling against her face and the water gently lapped against her as she opened her eyes and squinted at the sky. 

“Ah yes, Yugiri did note you were slipping away from our sights in the afternoon, I see you have found one of my favourite places to hide, when not at the Steppe!” Came a calm yet cheerful voice from above. 

Lord Hien stepped down from his Yol, landing onto one of the small mounds of grass that housed a plum tree. The Doman prince had a boyish grin, as he leaned against the tree, folding his arms and gazing at you with those soft chestnut eyes. His Yol floated away to join hers. 

Her first instinct was to immediately throw your arms around herself, for the warrior was barely clothed. Smallclothes left little for the imagination. 

“Lord Hien-” She gasped, a little annoyed. “Sometimes a little respite from duties is very much needed.” 

“That I must agree on.” Hien said, beginning to unbuckle his armour. “And on that note I hope it isn’t too much of an intrusion that I join you.” 

She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything Hien was down to his smallclothes, his muscles and scars revealed to all. Her mouth fell shut as she bit her lip, the pain not overriding the irritation. 

For the longest while, Hien had begun to play pranks on the warrior, a way to pass the stress of returning the Enclave to its former glory. Being of a stubborn nature the warrior of light relented, playing her own pranks that would often fail spectacularly, eliciting raucous laughter from the Doman prince who thought it endearing. 

This was another reason why she wished to find time to herself, as humorous as they were, pranks can and will often chip away at the warriors patience. 

But alas stubbornness prevailed, she knew she just needed to up her game. 

Hien slid into the water, letting a small sigh slip from his lips. He began to swim over to you, his arms cut through the water with great ease as your eyes roved over them. 

“My Lord what are you doing- Pray I would prefer if we bathed in peace.” Uttered the warrior, beginning to move way, only to realise she was surrounded by rocks. 

“That isn’t much fun now is it?” Hien said smiling, his eyes looking over you and he chuckled at your embarrassment. 

“Hien I swear by the twelve if this is another prank.” 

“Relax, oh great warrior.” Hien said, he was within ilms of her now, one arm reached out to bar her way as his hand lay rest on the rock behind her. “You truly are pent up sometimes.” 

She recoiled further, feeling the heat spread across her face. This was what the pranks would consist of. Hien trying to garner her attention to then only tease her in some way that would make her angry. It was frustrating to say the least, merely because she hadn’t successfully delivered her own revenge yet to put him in his place.

Yugiri would often calm the warrior, saying this was Hien’s way of showing closeness and affection. The warrior, childish at heart was too stubborn to see it beyond the prince being a nuisance. It was time to fight fire with fire. 

“Hien.” She said calmly. Water dripped off his face, glistening in the sunlight. His eyes lilted. 

“I can help you relax, my great warrior, by the Kami am I not blessed with such a presence today, to find such a wonder hiding in my own secret wondrous place-”

“Pray, you only say such words to goad me. I do not need help to relax.” The warrior huffed. 

“No, my Lady, I say them for that is how I feel. Am I not a man worthy of helping the warrior ease her stress?” Hien’s face looked kind with a hint of mischievousness as he ran a finger along her jawline lightly, the warrior swallowed, her lips parted.

He stopped speaking and leaned in, his nose barely ghosted over the warrior’s, his lips were close. She was lost in the moment now, the heat of both the water and her body rose. She could feel hear heartbeat thrumming violently in her ribcage. Drunk on the air of the spring and Hien’s presence she closed her eyes, accepting him. 

Only there wasn’t anything to accept. 

A booming laugh punctuated the quiet air of the spring. 

The warrior’s eyes flashed open dangerously, to see Hien had pulled back, his hands on his hips, his head thrown back in childish laughter. 

“Your face, you were incredibly embarrassed… ohohohoho by the Kami, I apologise, I do take these pranks too far that I must stop-” 

Something else punctuated the air of the spring soon after.

A perfectly square cut column of rock had erupted from the water, right under where Hien stood, smacking his body into the air with great ease. The warrior stood, with great anger, her fist punched towards the water below, a Stone IV spell having been successfully delivered. 

Like a ragdoll, Hien sailed through the air and with a loud clapping noise, the sound of flesh hitting the water cracked throughout the atmosphere like lightning. A deluge of water erupted into the air, before calming down again. 

She then placed her hips on her side, looking at the body of Hien floating in the water across the other side of the spring. He was face down, spread eagled. 

“That is what you get for another of your nonsensical pranks!” She yelled. The Doman did not stir. 

“H-Hien?” She called again. Surely a stone spell would not have- 

Practically running through the water the warrior rushed over to the floating body of Hien, frantically placing her hands on him to turn him over. 

“Hien are you-” 

The shite eating grin the prince wore was enough to confirm he was pranking her, once again. 

His laugh bellowed as he floated on his back, his eyes crinkled into the happiest expression as he looked at you, ignoring your rage. 

“Once again I seem to have outdone the warrior of light, thwarted by the prince of Doma- ahhh okay okay my Lady I shall refrain!” Hien shortled hurriedly, suddenly uprighting himself as she posed to summon another Stone IV at him. 

 

\--- 

It was a tale that Hien recounted whilst the warrior, Alisae and Yugiri sat at the table, late night drinking. The warrior sat scornfully upon her tatami, her arms folded as Yugiri giggled along, looking at Alisae who was also laughing. 

The warrior shoved another piece of mochi into her mouth with haste as Hien ruffled her hair, pouring another cup of sake. 

“Do not look so feral, my warrior.” Hien exclaimed. “I merely live for your reaction and I do hope you see them in jest.” 

She raised the cup slowly to your lips, giving him a side glance, paying no attention to his boyish grin. Alisae and Yugiri looked on with anticipation for her judgement, as if these words would label Hien for the rest of his Doman life. 

“Of course I see them but a jest! My Lord I wouldn’t ought to think you were capable to understand anything beyond that.” She smiled, as her words whipped him. He folded his arms and frowned. Alisae and Yugiri laughed. 

“My lord you do carry a childish nature when teasing the warrior of light. Though you may handle wars and affairs of Doma with great power, your affection for the warrior is that of something less mature.” Alisaie giggled, reaching for some mochi. 

A blush had formed across the Doman Prince’s face, something that caught the warrior off guard. He said no more on the matter. 

It wasn’t until the warrior had picked up the last piece of mochi from the ornately designed gift box on the table that Hien spoke. 

“Ah!” He said, clearly tickled by inebriation. “As a guest in my humble Kienkan surely you would reserve the final piece of this delectable treat to me? No?” 

The warrior had had her fill of saki too, a faint blush that played in her cheeks and her determined expression showed great restraint in displaying any motions of inebriation. She looked at him, her eyes sparkling as she detected he was teasing her again. 

“Pray, forgive me.” She said kindly, gently placing the soft delicacy between her teeth so that it was perfectly gripped as Hien’s eyes widened. “You are most welcome to the last piece, if you so insist--” 

The warrior began to lean towards Hien on hands on knees, crawling over to him as he fell backwards on his hands in surprise. Yugiri and Alisae fell silent from their chatter, as they watched the scene unfold with baited breaths. 

His face was a deep red as the warrior covered his body with her own, her guestrobe tickling his skin. She leaned into him, offering the treat, her nose pressed against him as her eyes bore deeply into his own seductively. His mouth gawped, unable to speak. When he could, he uttered the warrior’s name with such a small voice only she could hear it. She had winded him. 

The warrior took it further, pressing into his chest lightly, urging the piece of mochi closer to him. His lips parted, ready. 

In that instant the warrior, like Hien at the spring that day, recoiled and threw herself into fits of laughter.

Yugiri and Alisae clapped drunkenly, applauding. 

“My Lady a successful prank at last! Such confidence!” Yugiri grinned. 

Hien was still frozen on the spot, mesmerised by the warrior’s actions. 

\---

Alisae and Yugiri bid farewell to the prince and the warrior, before retreating respectfully to their own bedchambers. 

As Hien carefully placed cups and empty jugs onto a tray to leave outside for housekeeping he looked up, wondering where the warrior had gone. 

A soft, warm night breeze came in from the open panelled doors that led into the gardens of the Kienkan, faint footsteps against gravel could be heard. 

Drunkenly, the warrior had drifted in to the garden to admire the sky, the stars like a ceiling of wonders as she lost herself to the feeling of calm. It was hard to not admit, but her prank on Hien had eased the days of stress she had been feeling being unable to get him at his own game. Now that she had been successful her pride had returned. It was silly, if not humbling. 

There was the sound of footsteps approaching and the warrior turned around.

Hien stood, a piece of mochi in his mouth.  
“It appearsh you haahdn’t fhound the lasht peesh--” Hien said, or at least tried to say as the mochi was perched precariously between his teeth with great care. 

The warrior laughed. “Oh and this is to get me back? Using my own prank as your weapon? Such a weak way to retaliate.” She grinned, squinting her eyes at him under the moonlight. 

In a smooth, very quick motion she surged forward. With such grace and accuracy she cleanly tugged the delicacy away from his lips, snaking her neck back neatly and chewing the treat with an air of supreme smugness. The warrior grinned once again, happy at her own success. 

She span on the spot in childish excitement.

Hien crossed his arms, watching her with a deep stare.

“Hah, it appears I win again, My Lord I bet you did not think I would oblige--” she had started to say, but with quick reflexes, Hien had grabbed her wrist and spun her back around and into his arms. 

With one swift movement Hien tilted her head towards him and pressed his lips against hers, with great urgency. The warrior’s heart stopped in that moment, unable to process what happened, but she returned the kiss eagerly and with wanting, letting the sweet taste of his scent enrapture her. Hien hummed gently into her touch, letting himself be lost in her lips. He ran his hands through her hair, before resting them on her jaw, brushing a thumb over her cheek.

“Oh.” He breathed, his voice low against her lips. “But I did.”


	3. Forgiveness (Urianger/WoL) SHB SPOILERS!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- - - VERY VERY BIG SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS - - -  
> \- - - PLEASE DO NOT READ UNTIL DONE WITH MSQ - - -
> 
>  
> 
> We good? Good. 
> 
> Inspired by a small cutscene much later on in the game, I wanted to write a little moment between Urianger and the WoD.

“Ah, by your expression I can see though I had come to tell thee the truth, that you have already discerned it for yourself.” 

 

You could feel it. The light you had absorbed coursing through you, crackling and crinkling within. You didn’t know how long it would be until it consumed you but Ryn had temporarily managed to stem its effects. 

And after realising this woven lie, that this vision Urianger had was a plan from the Exarch all along you had resolved to go on your own to the Tempest, standing at the Amaro launch, fists shaking as you requested to journey on your own to rescue him. 

You didn’t feel betrayed, you felt determined. 

And now Urianger knelt before you, the rest of the Scions tentatively circling around. They had been searching for a cure for you, Urianger had crumpled onto his knees, the weight of his lie that had carried all of your course of actions throughout the journey pushing him down. 

“Pray, I do not need forgiveness but understand why I had to carry the burden of this truth.” The elezen was staring at the ground, his soft grey hair falling forward as he bowed his head. Your chest ached. The memory you had witnessed through the echo had painted such a painful agonising picture of the lie Urianger had promised to partake in. The Exarch had revealed all to him, as he hung his head in his hands, clutching at his temple as if to try and process everything the Exarch was bestowing upon him. 

To fabricate that this plan as a vision, to relay to you and the others, to say that he saw you, the Warrior of Light lifeless and cold in the dark was your prophecy. It was all said to protect the greater sacrifice the Exarch was willing to make. 

“If needs must. I will do it not only for you, but for her.” Urianger’s words echoed in the memory. 

It had all clicked into place.

Why he had fawned over you, concern seemed more apparent in him at times. And stolen glances you made at him as you all travelled together, you noticed him staring at you with a certain longing, mixed with an ache and pain as if something was consuming him more painfully than the light you had conquered was doing right now to your feeble body. 

When you overheard Y’Shtola lecturing Urianger about the light doing you damage, he sounded pained in response, Y’Shtola questioning his motives as he tried not to reply. 

“Are you protecting her, are you hiding some great secret that we must know?” She had snapped, her voice muffled through the great oak door you stood next to. 

“I cannot answer. But I will find a way to help.” Urianger said quietly. “Pray, I will find a way.” The sound of a fist hitting a table punctuated the air. 

And then in the Crystal Tower, the resolve Ryn had, the Ascian Emet calling Thancred out, knowing full well the conflict Thancred had in regards to his great love for “his” Minfilia. 

When the words mentioning heart ache and love echoed throughout the chamber Y’Shtola had caught your eye, she was staring not at Thancred but at Urianger with deep intent and a small, knowing smile. Gently looking over to him you saw he had been staring at you, and upon your eyes meeting his he had immediately looked away. Were those… tears? 

And now, in this present moment that felt like forever, he was quiet. Kneeling, wanting you to understand him. 

The Scions watched you with great interest as you stepped forward towards him silently. Even when crouching, his height came up to your chest. You leaned over, and in one smooth moment you reached down and took his hands in yours, palming them between your fingers. You lightly traced his fingers with your thumbs and for the first time he looked up at you. 

Burning amber eyes that sparkled with tears. 

“My lady?” Was all he could say in quiet surprise. 

“Of course I forgive you, you silly fool.” You uttered, smiling slightly. “I know you, Urianger, I know why you would hide such a plan. You are loyal and always help those in need even if it means sacrifice. You helped me. All those times through this journey... and I wish for you to remain by my side furthermore still, secrets and all.” 

Your heart was vibrating. Maybe it was the contact with his hands or the way his eyes bore with such complexity into your own, but you felt the impulse to try and distill some of this pressure building within your heart. 

Tilting your head forward, and with such delicateness you gently planted your lips upon his forehead, placing the small gift of a kiss upon his skin. 

The world around you drowned out. Alphinaud’s face aflame with a beetroot colour, Alisaie placing her hands over her mouth so as to not yell in delight, Thancreds scoff and Y'Shtola’s smirk all blurred out of your sight. 

Your name was said so quietly and in such a low voice it rolled through your very bones. Urianger’s eyes frantically searched your own, tears gently skirting their way down his sharp features.   
He said your name again, he was (for once) at a loss of words, his mouth opened slightly. “I… I--” You moved your hands to his face. 

“Hush.” You said quietly. “Say no more.” 

You placed another kiss delicately on his cheek, and then ghosting your lips over the corner of his lips you pressed them once again against him. He was lost in your actions, but you could feel the energy spilling forth from him like the calm before the storm. It was electric, the tension between you two. A pair of aching souls in a world that was not their own. 

Slowly, he turned his head slightly and in such slow and minute movement he parted his lips and met yours. It was a tender kiss, one that felt like it lasted for aeons. It felt like a silence had fallen upon the Crystarium, as if nothing else mattered.

And as you pulled away once more and looked at each other, no words could speak volumes of what Urianger felt for you.

His large arms wrapped themselves around your torso, pulling you close and he buried his face against your bosom as he let out a single stifled sob.

“We will find him. We will bring the Exarch back.” He said, a deep growl of resolve that reverberated against your very soul. “Together. I promise thee.”


	4. No more games (Haurchefant/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bath themed one!

The water was delicious, in a way your body thanked you for the warmth you were cocooning yourself in. 

Sweet smells of unique soaps hung in the air in the large bathroom, swirling among the dense misty air of the humidity that had built up. Sighing peacefully you swayed your arms under the hot water of the bath. 

The tub was huge, capable of even fitting several elezen. It was solid marble upon ornate gold claws. It sat by the large bay windows, overlooking the snowy spires of Ishgard. Though the view wasn’t in sight, for the steam had coated the glass panes. 

Since your arrival at Ishgard, House Fortemps had welcomed you in with great friendliness, letting you reside within their mansion during your missions in Coerthas and beyond. It had been Haurchefant that had arranged this, though he were a bastard, his father was more than welcome to accomodate for you and your companions, he strongly believed you were allowed the mercy after all that had happened before. 

As you washed your face you felt it flush when you thought of the knight. His silvery hair and handsome features swirled through your mind, but it was his overeager personality and humour that danced on the tips of your smile as you rubbed more soap across yourself. The musky smell of sandalwood and the softness of jasmine filled your nostrils. You wondered if this was what Haurchefant bathed in. The scent seemed familiar all those times he would be close to you… no… wait… you thought… don’t indulge yourself in these thoughts… 

You plunged your face forward, letting the water take you completely as you hugged your knees, trying to drown out your grin. 

Because you had submerged yourself, the muffled sounds of a door creaking open and closing barely met your ears. Alert but not completely, you pulled your head back out of the water with a great rushing of water. 

“H- hello?” You uttered through the steam, rubbing your eyes whilst reaching blindly for the small washcloth you had draped over the bath.   
“Here you go, my Warrior of Light.” came a familiar voice, echoing teasingly through the bath chamber. 

The weight of someone's fist pressed into your palm as they placed the cloth into your hand. 

The sudden realisation someone was indeed in the room met you and turning your head frantically you looked round and were met with soft blue eyes, piercing into your own. A face with a mop of silvery hair greeed you back, a wide sly grin etched into them in a lingering expression as his eyes roved over your form, fortunately covered in a lot of foam you had stirred up. 

“Haurchefant!” You gasped, “What in the seven hells are you doing here?!” 

Then you realised, he was only in a robe. Your face flushed madly. 

“Oh my dear. I thought, why waste water with two baths?” He said confidently. “When as my dearest friend you would not object to the concept of us sharing instead?” 

Before you even had a chance to utter a single word, his hands tugged at the rope of his robe and with one fell sweep it gracefully landed on the floor around his feet. 

Your eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, as if they had a mind of their own, trying to find a place to look that wasn’t him. But he was standing, looming over the great bathtub and so close to you, you couldn’t help but let wandering eyes take in his muscled features. Scars from past fights, the way the toned lines on his hips dipped down towards his-- 

“Haurch- Haurchefant you can’t just... invite yourself here... and partake in my bath!” You mumbled stupidly, your voice all over the place because you couldn’t breathe at the sight of him. You coughed, an attempt to clear your throat but it came out like a wheeze instead. The elezen laughed, reading you as openly as one of Alphinaud's tomes. 

“Oh but I can.” He said with great relish. 

In one long step and amongst the rushing of water as it swirled like a maelstrom, Haurchefant plunged into the bathtub in front of you. And yet the bath was still so big that even his large elezen form did not make contact with your body. You gaped at him. Part of you was angry, but the slow reality of the situation you were in wove its way through your mind, blinding your sense of reasoning. 

Since the first time you met the knight at Camp Dragonhead, it had been his game to flirt with you ruthlessly. At first you were taken aback, but having the nature of curiosity and playfulness yourself you relented. Much like any form of flirtation that is received on both ends the tension grew, budding a potential romance between you two, something that has remained unspoken and not brought to attention. Instead, idle moments like falling asleep at the table whilst working late, sharing food, hugging upon your return to Ishgard, openly flirting to you in front of Tataru and Alphinaud, among other indiscretions occurred. 

These were all small intimate moments that never truly found their conclusion. 

And now… 

You folded your arms, glaring at him through the steam, trying to cover yourself. Although Haurchefant had gladly revealed his naked form to you with great pride, you on the other hand couldn’t help but feel a little exposed… only a little. 

He blinked, leaning back and placing his arms behind him lazily at the edge of the other side of the tub. 

“What? Pray don’t be mad at me, my lady. It has been a long day for which I have been running around most of and wish to relax. Pray indulge me that joy at least.” 

It was as if he was avoiding the obvious. 

Fine. You thought. If he wants to be like this then I shall accept this challenge. 

You smirked at him, moving towards him through the water like a shark upon its prey. He watched you stoically, his lips trying not to playfully grin. 

“Move.” You said, reaching him and gently swaying to his side, placing your hands on his arms as you motioned for him to turn. 

“My lady what are you-” Haurcherfant began. Even when sitting down he was tall against you. Comfortably crouching in the water you nestled behind him, letting your hands wander across his back delicately. 

“Hush.” You said simply, taking a cloth and the soap you had used. 

You heard him gasp as you began to lather the soap across his back, working with delicate motions across his back. At first he had stiffened in reaction to your touch, but that was only for a few seconds before he slouched forward, letting out a long sigh. Your hands easily slid across his slick body, the mix of the smell of soap and his sweat was intoxicating, a deep melody of scents that caused you to get light headed. 

You began to hum quietly, a common Ishgardian tune you heard as you wandered the city often. The elezan sighed into your touch, swaying slightly in the still hot bath water. Your voice echoed lightly through the room, as Haurchefant relaxed even further. 

“My lady, I-” He began, then pausing thoughtfully as you continued to hum. “Do you not feel there are things we should discuss…” He paused again, choosing his words carefully. “About us?” 

You didn’t respond. You felt your heart thrum through the heat of the room. Of all the times to want to talk about something serious. You mused. 

Well, you guessed, you are both naked in a bath tub… 

“My lady?” He said again, trying to coax a response. “Surely you fe- ah!” 

He had tried to speak, but you had slipped both your arms around him fully, dipping the soapy cloth into the water and down the edges of his hips. A low grumbling noise escaped his lips, rumbling against your chest as you pressed into his back. 

Delicately, you ran your hand along the very lower part of his hipline, dangerously close to- 

You couldn’t move any further, for his arms reached round to grab what he could of you. With success his hands landed on your thighs and you gasped. 

“No.” You said, your voice husky. 

“No?” Haurchefant said, confused to what this was in response to. 

“No touching until I am done washing you.” 

“And when will you be done?” He said, his voice strained with want. 

“When I say I am.” You instructed. Haurchefant let out a small mewl of frustration. 

“If you insist.” He said, you could hear the smile in his words. You stood up a little more, pressing your chest further into his back and he let out a small moan. 

“You come in here to play your games with me once again.” You said, moving your soapy hands across his shoulder, and down to his chest. “Then wish to sully the mood with serious talk.” 

“But my dear-” Haurhcefant began, you felt his weight shift in an attempt to turn and face you but fiercely you bit his ear and he immediately stopped, letting out a lustful gasp. 

You could feel your heart beating wildly through your ribcage, against his back and most likely he felt it too. He tilted his head back, leaning into your touch as you ran both hands across his chest, taking in how toned he was, circling his nipples then running your fingers back and over his neck. A slow quiet moan came from his lips as you worked your way with him, his posture moving from hunched to upright, leaning into your body. 

“You drive me crazy.” He said, breaking the silence as your name escaped his lips. “Oh pray Halone save me from this torture.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a delicate laugh. He had fully leaned back into you now, you were perched up against the side of the tub as you cradled him. He let his hand slowly move round, it snaked its way through the water and rested on your inner thigh. Being an elezen meant he had better reach, and he let his fingers linger near you, trying to chance fate. 

“I’m not done...” You sang playfully. He whined. 

“I do not like this game.” He pouted. “I do not want to play anymore.” You chuckled again, splashing water on his face lightly. 

“Oh is this you wanting to discuss serious things again?” You jested, putting on a deep voice at an attempt to imitate Haurchefant “Oh yes hello I’m Ser Haurchefant, hello Warrior of Light, even though I flirt with you a lot I’d like to discuss serious things about us-” 

In one swift movement, the still of the soap and water erupted, as the elezen spun round. His full body pressed up against you and you let out a small squeak as you felt something else press up against your inner leg, your thighs instinctively moved to each side as they straddled his hips.

At this point you were drunk on the heat coming from both the room and from inside you. Blood was rushing to all manners of places and the weight of the elezen as he held you was all too much. He was staring at you intensely, a coy smile tapered out from the corners of his lips. 

“And what if I insist-” he moved his hips slightly and you gasped “That we talk about us?” 

Both his arms were on either side of you, clutching the edge of the tub. You ran your hands over them, feeling them gently beneath your fingers before resting your hands on his shoulders. Your breath had shortened into small pants. He had you pinned. 

“And what is there to say about us?” You said, your voice hitched as he leaned his head in closer to you. You stared at him through your eyelashes, lips parted as you bit your bottom lip. Like an eagle his eyes swept to them immediately, watching your small movements with great interest before softening, his eyes shimmering in the candlelight. He took a deep breath, as if steeling his resolve for you. 

“Oh my love. I just. I just want you. Everything about you I adore. I want us.” His voice was soft yet full of shaken intensity. And then finally, he kissed you. 

It was long, lingering, desperate. He pushed up more against you, causing you to lose your breath. You tightened the grip of your thighs against him, your hands wrapping around his neck as he enveloped you with his lips. 

“No more… games.” You mumbled against his touch, feeling his arms move as his hands swirled into the water, caressing every part of you he could. 

“Well…” he said, moving his lips to your neck. His fingers grazed over your inner thigh, finding your folds. With great enjoyment he eased a long finger in, arching it which in turn caused you to lurch against him, letting out one long moan into his ear. 

“... Maybe a few more games first.”


	5. The Beacon Part 2 - Aymeric/WoL Thancred/WoL SHB SPOILERS!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR SHADOWBRINGERS SPOILERS - Do not read unless you are up to to date with the story! 
> 
> We good? Good. 
> 
> A continuation of the first beacon one shot, only this time the WoD celebrates victory at the Crystarium with her fellow Scions, only for one of them to confront her with things on their mind...

“I daresay Thancred, that is definitely not water you are drinking.”  
Her hands clasped around the tankard briskly, lifting it up to her face to inspect in jest. 

Thancred’s hands flailed at the Warrior of Light, words forming from his lips but no sound coming out as he tried to think of the right excuse. 

“Well you know milady, it takes more than Urianger’s recitals of my past conquests to discourage me from a drink… or two.” The hyur brought a hand up to his hair, his usual stony expression softened at the warrior’s presence. “And besides, what better time to drink that the biggest celebration The First has ever had?” 

The warrior grinned, bringing the flagon to her lips, much to Thancred’s dismay. Taking a swig and staring side eyed at him he lurched from where he sat on the bench, trying to swing a hand at her hips as she let her lithe body sway away, downing the rest of his drink. He looked playfully hurt. The warrior slammed the flagon down upon the wooden bench as the other scions cheered. Alisaie, perched at the far end of the table, merry on wine, threw an arm around Ryne and laughed, her cheeks flushed with inebriation. 

The whole of the Crystarium had erupted in celebration to herald the return of the Exarch safe and sound, the Scion’s defeat of Emet Selch and most importantly, the calamity of light finally being purged from the realm of The First. 

Benches scattered across the main courtyard, flagons of ale and beer and wine littered the tables, as everyone drank under the beautiful starlit sky. 

Flopping herself down next to Thancred she poured him another drink, handing him the tankard before playfully pulling it away slightly. Thancred frowned at her and she laughed playfully, finally letting him take his drink back. 

It was safe to say the warrior had had a few drinks but was able to keep her fill without feeling too drunk. A warm feeling of happiness coursed through her like a blanket of relief, swelling in her heart and causing her eyes to well up slightly as she watched most of her companions (with the exception of Alphinaud who was passed out in his quarters) celebrate at the table. 

Pouring herself a tankard, she sipped it carefully, eyes beaming. To her left Thancred nursed his drink, watching her carefully. 

Her eyes flicked to his to catch him out, smiling mid swig as he stared back down at his drink in contemplation. 

“It is not like you think in silence so much.” The warrior said sarcastically. “After all we’ve been through pray, tell me what lies beneath that brooding look this time.” 

He was caught off guard and took a deep gulp of his drink, placing the tankard down and looking up to where Ryne was. 

“Nothing that is of too much importance, milady.” He said simply. There was a pause, a contemplation as if he did wish to indulge her in his thoughts but before he could speak there was a giggle as a miqo'te bartender swayed up to Thancred, clutching a tray of small vials. 

“Our glorious warriors deserve something a little extra special.” The raven haired woman placed a hand on Thancred’s back, sliding the tray onto the table. The warrior’s eyes gleamed, the drink coursing through her as she observed the vials with keen interest. 

“And what, pray tell are you trying to get us inebriated on?” Thancred said briskly, an edge of flirtation in his voice. He reached for coin in one of his pockets and the Miqo’te laughed, winking at him. 

“Nay, this is on the house my good sir.” She said, before swaying away back to the bar. He watched and the warrior narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Ah yes, a potential conquest for tonight then?” She said smirking, lifting up the amber coloured liquid she gently sniffed it. 

It smelled sweet. It smelled familiar, as if there was a far off memory lingering from within its depths, waiting for her to remember. 

“I’m afraid not, much to your amusement.” Thancred shrugged, lifting up a vial to tap it against yours. They both nodded at each other and shot the liquid down in one go. 

A warm, comforting sensation coursed down the warrior’s throat. The drink tasted so sweet and yet delicate at the same time as it gently wove its way across her palette. 

And then she realised, where she had experienced this taste this before. 

It was as if someone had grabbed her chest and twisted it, letting the numbing sensation of the memory come back to her, slicing through her inebriated mindset with great ease. 

“Of course, birch syrup.” Thancred said, shaking his head and shivering at the strength of the shot. “And a very potent alcoholic mix too. A lethal combination I must say.” He looked over at the warrior, who was staring ahead. “Too strong for you then milady?” 

Running a thumb over the residue of the vial, the warrior looked down at her hands. Hiding the emotion that had erupted from her heart as it span madly in her chest, the prickling of a sad heat that flashed across her face. 

The Lord Commander would love to serve her tea in the morning with birch syrup in it.

His face flashed across her mind briefly, the expression of joy, his azure blue eyes crinkling and his smile of delight when he saw she approved of his favourite drink. 

He always wanted her approval on things.

How she longed to feel his hair entangled in her fingers again.

Placing a sticky finger on the bottom of her lip the memory of standing in front of the beacon, embracing him with one final kiss as they both caved into their love for each other came back, prickling her skin as she felt her stomach heave. 

She longed to kiss him again, to return to him and feel the warmth of his face against hers. 

Ser Aymeric...

How long had it been since that day? She thought. 

Fingers clasped themselves around her shoulder and she snapped her head round to see Thancred leaning closer with a look of concern. He swayed slightly. Clearly the shot of alcoholic birch syrup was taking him to the limit. 

“Are you all right?” he said simply, giving her shoulder a squeeze. 

Her hand quickly swept up to catch the small tear that was dangerously forming on the edge of her eye and she let out a big grin and nodded almost too eagerly. 

“But of course Thancred, I was just thinking about how far we’ve all come to get to this moment.” She lied. 

He gave her a small smile, letting his hand fall to his side. 

“Heh.” 

His ashen white hair fell forward as he ducked his head again, inspecting the vials. 

“Then let us drink to it.” Thancred said, handing the warrior another shot. 

 

\--- 

At night, the Crystarium was a sight to behold. It’s azure spire stood high against the sky, a fractal of blue crystal that gleamed and glowed against the glittering sea of stars. 

The warrior wavered on the spot where she stood, her arms dangling over the edge of the barrier of the upstairs walkway that stretched around the main courtyard. Those shots had been strong... and with the risk of her painful yearning bubbling over in her rather alcoholic state, she had kindly excused herself from the table, deciding to slowly go on a walk around the Crystarium for some fresh air. 

Revellers greeted her, offering her to join them in their celebrations. They chanted “Warrior of Darkness!” at her as she politely declined. Eventually she had found a quiet spot that overlooked the festivities. 

She could still think rationally, and with that she cleared her mind of Ser Aymeric. For she knew. She knew in her heart she’d would soon return to him. 

The warmth and happiness of the celebrations soon returned to her, brushing over thoughts of Aymeric with a thin veil, fading from her mind. As she took in deep breaths of the cool night air, her voice was called from somewhere across to her right. 

Thancred was running towards her, two tankards in his hands. The ale sloppily splashed everywhere, the brown liquid leaving a foamy trail across the stoney floor in his wake. 

The warrior burst out laughing. It was clear he was in a much more joyous mood now. 

“You appeared to have stained your jacket.” She chuckled, taking the drink off him and gesturing to his white Gunslinger jacket. He looked at it lazily and shrugged, grinning. 

“I have been in far worse situations with far worse stains.” He said, leaning onto the balcony next to her. She opened her mouth to query this but realised she didn’t want to know what other stains have found their way onto his jacket. 

As if reading her mind Thancred’s eyes widened and he let out a long chuckle. “No, milady, I did not mean anything lewd. Unless you count blood and dust and the guts of monsters as being something of the… lewd type.” 

She felt her ears burn and her face flush and she punched his arm. “I did not even think!” 

“Besides,” Thancred continued, looking out over the courtyard to where Ryne said, still being cuddled by a drunk Alisaie “It appears I have more important responsibilities now.” 

The warrior drank, then held the tankard with both hands, looking at him as he gazed ahead. 

“Ah yes, she said.” Nudging him. “You’re being a good father to her y’know.” 

For the first time in the longest while, she saw Thancred blush slightly. A slight tinge of pink that not even his mop of hair or his usual serious furrowed brow could hide. 

He looked away from the warrior, so you couldn't see such a gentle response. Letting out a small laugh she turned to watch the crowds once again. Yet again, she could sense he had looked back around at her, staring deeeply contemplation. 

“You know.” He said. “Ryn really looks up to you.” 

“No different to how she looks up to you and Urianger.” She replied, letting her fingers lace across the cool metal of the tankard, tracing its intricate designs. 

“I am aware but--” He stopped short, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say. She looked at him inquisitively and his expression fell and he fiercely stared at his ale instead, out of embarrassment. 

“Oh don’t look at me like that.” He suddenly grunted.

“Like what!?” The warrior exclaimed, confused and she moved quickly to hit him in the arm again but missed, stumbling a little. It seemed to have lightened his mood and he chuckled again as he watched ale spill around the warrior’s feet. 

“I don’t know.” He said, saying your name with a big sigh. “I just think. You should stay here. For her.” 

The warrior froze, looking at Thancred with wide eyes.

“Thancred, you know full well that she is growing to be an independent person. The knowledge imparted from you and Urianger will do her well for years to come, even if the Scions do eventually come back to the Source.” She grasped the railing of the balcony, leaning around to peer at him. “You know I’m not needed.” 

Thancred had a straight face, but it looked instead like he was ready to explode. As if some great secret was burning him up inside. He was staring intensely ahead again, his lips pursed tightly, his brow lowered into a glare. 

“Thancred, I’m afraid I can’t help. I need to return to The Source. You and Ryne will be fine without me.” The warrior spun on her heel to walk gently away from the situation. It baffled her. Yes, Thancred enjoyed how much Ryne appreciated her company but there had never been any strong desire expressed for her to remain in the Source. The Scions, hells, even the Exarch understood she had to return. Her adventure here had come to a close. For now. 

“You’re right. I lie.” Thancreds voice cut through the cool air like a lance. She paused, still holding the flagon tightly in her hands. 

“It’s not for Ryn. I want you to stay. For me. With me. Just some form of staying… and... with me...” His words tumbled out from the unfolded lie, a truth that rose like the drowning, sweeping feeling across her chest. 

“Thancred I-” she had begun, but the sudden noise of metal clattering across the ground met her ears. 

Thancred had abandoned his tankard... and in two quick steps was looming over her. 

Both his hands clasped her face in his, the smell of ale and mint swirled around her, lingering on the edges of his fingers.

Another clatter and her own tankard fell to the floor, the quick cooling rush of liquid made a splashing noise as it splayed across her boots, staining the leather. 

“Thancred,” she said his name again. Her own body and mind taking longer to respond for the alcohol had caused her limber body to feel light yet sluggish. 

With one tight sweep, he pulled her into a deep embrace. She felt like she was drowning, the haze of inebriation, the smell of Thancred and the warmth of his body enveloped her, pulling her deeper into its abyss. She could hear his heart roaring beneath the fabric, thumping madly against her as if begging for her attention.

And then she smelled it again. The birch syrup. A small residual memory that found its way into her mind, dipping into her chest like a thin fishing line, ready to hook her heart back into reality. 

Aymeric. 

Her heart had stopped. 

Or it least felt like it had. Her mind clouded, fumbling through thoughts as if grasping for something to stay afloat on. 

Thancred pulled away slightly and looked down at her. They were both dishevelled. Drunk.

She looked up, trying to form words as he leaned closer. His grey eyes clear yet hazy with intent. 

Her hands were on the edges of his coat, tightening. 

Clenching into themselves as they balled the fabric in resilience to the situation she found herself in. 

He breathed against her face, his lips ghosted too closely to hers. 

Say something! A small voice in her head said. Please!

“Thancred I can’t. You know this.” 

He stopped. 

A long deep sigh escaped his lips, a low rumbling from his throat as the reality set in. 

Though she wished not to speak of her suitor for the pain it brought her, she had longingly promised her love to Aymeric. It had been Alisaie she had confided in through their journey in The First. 

Though it was in small moments, Alisaie had noticed the warrior had tried to steel her way through the emotions instead of talking it out, which led Alisaie to take her to the top of the tower in Amh Araeng and let her confide to her the painful longing in confidence. The rest of the Scions dared not interfere, but it was an open secret that the feelings between Aymeric and her were true and strong. Thancred, who in his early stubborn days, was too preoccupied with Minfilia and Ryne and had chosen to ignore this. He was Thancred afterall, he could have what he wanted if he put his mind to it. 

Except for her. 

“Ser Aymeric and I- we… before I arrived here-” she stammered words, letting them stumble out of her. Tears were forming. Her heart felt like it had been pushed too far. 

They stayed like that for another minute. Only the muffled cries of partying could be heard ululating throughout the Crystarium. 

“Ah my friend. Please forgive me.” He breathed, his lips found her forehead where he rested them against her soft skin. They felt coarse, worn from journeys in the desert with Ryn. He then buried his face in her hair. 

“I finally couldn’t resist, could I?” He mumbled against her, clutching her tightly. 

It was painful. She loved Thancred, but to her it felt more platonic than that of romance. Sure, he was handsome and he was charismatic and charming when it required... and he had shown great maturity on his journey to come to terms with Minfilia’s passing… but her feelings with Aymeric could not be broken, not by anyone. 

No manner of temptation would ever interfere with how strongly she felt for the Lord Commander. She knew undoubtedly, Aymeric felt the same way. 

“I’m. I’m sorry.” The warrior gasped, tightening her grip on his jacket. Thancred let out a small laugh. She could feel him shake against her as he laughed, tears spilled across her cheeks.

“Ah don’t be.” He rested his chin against her. “It is I who is once again sorry. I am such a stubborn old fool sometimes.” 

He lifted his head up, glancing down to look at her as she pulled away, finally relinquishing his hold over her. Softly, he brushed a hand over her tears. 

“Ah yes. Ser Aymeric. That damn Ishgardian is one lucky man.” Thancred said. She chuckled, placing a hand over his.

“Of course he is, I’m the godsdamned Warrior of Darkness!” 

Thancred threw his head back, punching the air with deep laughter at the gall of her response. She watched him, then lightly squeezing his hand she leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. 

A parting gift to the moment that never was. 

Thancred blinked, looking at her in surprise. 

“This one’s on the house.” She said, winking at him. Again he laughed boisterously. Like the defeat of a Lightwarden, the tense air between them dissipated. 

She paced away towards the stairs, letting Thancred remain, in a mix of stunned silence, dipped in sadness but in peace with the situation, before padding along next to her. 

“How about another one?” He said, tapping her arm playfully. The warrior snorted. 

“I am afraid… the rest are for Ser Aymeric.” She said, lightly shoving him.

“Oh come, one more… and I can pick where you kis- OUCH!” Thancred’s grin and smooth flirtatious voice was punctuated by a jab in the ribs. 

“I swear you’d have the wrath of Ser Aymeric, and by the Fury, Halone upon you if you were to even think to continue that suggestion.” 

“I am most certainly sure, I could take him on in a fight.” Thancred smirked, letting the warrior step down the staircase first. 

“And I am most certainly sure, he would beat you. Have you seen the size of his sword?” 

A quick pause followed by a choked laugh echoed around the staircased area surrounding the aetheryte.

“Thancred you git, you know I did not mean it that way!”

“I am sure not, milady.” Thancred responded sarcastically, grinning at his fellow companion, winding an arm around her shoulder and squeezing tightly as they ventured back to the thick fray of celebration.


	6. The Beacon Part 3 (Aymeric/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay just a whole drabble of fluff and angst to conclude the beacon story I had! 
> 
> Also 80% of the time I *try* and write angst, I end up having to add humour in because it destroys me too much! 
> 
> Anyway enjoy some Aymeric/WoL fluff, may the Lord Commander bless us all.

A fortnight does not feel like much time to the average Eorzean, but for someone longing for their beloved to return, it could feel like mere seconds had been stretched into endless hours, time passing in a way that was agonising for the very soul. 

This was what Ser Aymeric had dealt with. Trying to bury his feelings in his work within Ishgard as Lord Commander. The lingering kiss that prickled on the tips of his mouth when he let the memory come back to him would drive his thoughts to think of her again. That sight of her as she disappeared, journeying to another world to save their people had imprinted itself into his dreams.

Then when the time came, he had felt it was serendipitous that he happened to have been at the Gates of Judgement when she returned. 

A cold icy haze had fallen upon Coerthas, coating the mountains in a thick cloak of snowy white. Ishgard stood, pale and glittering like a distant memory within the folds of snow. 

Ser Aymeric stood at the entrance to the Gates of Judgement, dealing with a brief matter with his Temple Knights. It was a small matter, a meagre report about the situation in the area surrounding. As he elaborate further actions to his men it was then he spotted a figure in the corner of his eyesight, slowly ambling into view. A silhouette of a person limping, a large sword in hand. 

He turned his head, trying to discern the figure as they came closer into view, the mist swirled. The armour looked more clear. 

“Commander, is that not-” said one of the knights. 

He inhaled sharply. Quickly A short gasp that came short, as if the world around him had stopped moving. His lungs filled with a cold that rushed through him like icy tendrils, burying into every fibre of his being.

He watched as the Warrior of Light appeared only a few hundred yalms away, clutching her greatsword, dragging it through the snow. 

She stopped. Brushing her hair back she looked up, seeing that familiar gold and blue armour like a beacon in the wild snowy landscape. 

The journey back to the Source had been taxing, warping through time and space had been draining on her aether. 

And yet, as soon as she reappeared alone, back in the Syrcus Trench, her mind only had one objective. To go to Ishgard. 

Though the road was filled with dangerous creatures that roamed the Highlands, they were not hard for her to fight, as fatigued she were. And now she was here. 

The warrior swayed on the spot. Slamming the sword down fiercely into the ground as she used it as a crutch. Her weight shifted forward, her arm falling limp upon the hilt as she collapsed forward, crumpling onto the ground. 

As if every muscle knew what to do before his mind did, Aymeric found himself dashing forward, sprinting to where she fell. Her name escaped his lips in one long cry as he fell to his knees beside her, turning her gently with his hands and lifting her onto his lap. 

She looked battered, her armour dented in places, dried blood crusted across her face with fine scars. Aymeric felt her shift slightly in his arms and her eyes opened slightly, slowly, as if seeing the world for the first time. 

Her dried lips parted, a small sigh gently ghosting out as she gave him a weak smile. The relief on her face made Aymeric’s heart tighten. He said her name gently over and over, brushing her hair away from her face. A hand reached up to gently caress his face as he lurched over her, holding her as if he risked losing her again to the world beyond Eorzea. 

“My love.” He said. It was all he could say other than her name. Her thumb brushed over his cheeks as her other hand came to grip his armour. 

“I came...” She started, her voice low, quiet. “I came back to you my love. As soon as I arrived. It was all I could think of.” Her grip tightened on the cloth of his armour as she pulled him closer. 

“My love did you not stop to rest?” Aymeric felt his face grow hot, a prickling in his eyes. 

“I wanted. To come back to you. Nothing would stop me.” She rasped. “I love you.” 

The prickling spread to the rest of his face, a hot rushing feeling that contorted his expression. He didn’t care if the fellow Temple Knights could see him. The Lord Commander was allowed at least one folly in his day. 

Long agonising sobs heaved from his throat, he clutched her tightly, crying in sweet relief. Tears fell hot and warming against the warrior’s neck as he clutched her tightly, shaking as he held her up. He howled, his face twisted into shapes that the warrior witnessed, and as if by proxy she too began to cry, pulling him even closer to the point he was fully arched over her. Shifting her weight so she sat up more, she buried her face into his, leaving heated kisses all over his skin. 

“Please.” She pleaded, trying to stifle her sobs. “Please don’t cry. I’m here. I’m here my love. I’m not going anywhere again.” 

It hurt her, to see someone of such a powerful stature crumble once again in front of her. She had the power of the echo, the power to slay lightwardens, the power to take down anything. With that power, she learned she could also put the man she loved through such longing anguish. For she was the Warrior of Light, and she had to wander always, helping those who needed her. 

She never knew if she’d return to him in one piece.

And this terrified her.

Aymeric uttered his devotion to her against her skin, pressing his forehead to hers, eyes red from crying. The swelling of relief spread through his very being, enveloping him as it wracked his body with emotion. 

Happiness. Love. Joy. 

She ran her fingers across his face again, gently soothing him. He smiled, eyes crinkling as he kissed her. 

“Welcome back, my love.” He said, his voice hitched and shaking. “You can rest now.” 

She smiled contentedly up at Aymeric, it felt vulnerable, personal as if a smile only reserved for him. 

“Maybe I shall rest for five mintes…” she mumbled, her lids heavy as they slid shut. Aymeric carefully planted a kiss on her forehead and she let out a small sigh of solace as he did. 

Slowly, he lifted her up in his arms, hooking one under her leg and the other behind the square of her back. He couldn’t even begin to describe how peaceful she looked, how vulnerable and delicate she were within his arms. 

The Champion of Eorzea, the slayer of Primals. The woman who helped win wars and negotiate peace with dragons. All of this seemed to disappear as he held her. She felt like the most fragile thing in his arms, so precious, like a beautiful glass artifact that could shatter at any moment. He wanted to be the one to care for her, to protect her when she could not do so herself.

He began to pace towards the gate, staring straight ahead, ignoring the looks from the Temple Knights as they stood in silence. 

“Pray retrieve the warrior’s sword for me.” Aymeric said, not making eye contact as the gates opened, “And send word forward that I require our finest Chirurgeon to attend the manor.” The knight bowed in acknowledgement and ran ahead of the couple, his footsteps clattering into the distance. 

\---

The scent of lavender and sea salt wafted through the air, hanging like a delicate song that lingered as it wove itself through the sounds and smell of the fireplace crackling. 

The warrior let out a small contented sigh, stirring in her sleep. 

He was perched on an armchair next to his bed, watching her. 

His housestaff had offered to prepare the guest room when he arrived at De Borel manor, her body cocooned within his arms but he dismissed them, asking that they prepare his own chambers instead. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight. 

The chirurgeon had tended to her wounds and bruises, rubbing an ointment of essential oils, casting some spells and gently cleaning up her damaged state ‘til she looked perfectly peaceful, lying in the bed, a vision of rest at last. 

Being a white mage the chirurgeon noted to the Lord Commander that her aether was severely depleted and that she may be out of it for the next few days and if he wished to attend to her personally, she would leave behind some extra ointment. He nodded simply, acknowledging her advice as she calmly closed the chamber door behind her. 

Standing up he paced to the fireplace, throwing another log in and watching the flames dance and encapsulate the log with great fierceness. The flame swam like pools of hot light as he stared into them, sifting through his thoughts to ease himself. 

“My Lord…” came a voice meekly from the many blankets and pillows upon the bed.

He spun on his heel, his eyes softened as he hastily stepped over to where she lay. She had tried to sit up amongst where she rested but shook. Aymeric perched onto the edge of the bed, scooping one arm around her as she looked at him lovingly. 

“Please,” he said, saying her name carefully as if he risked damaging her with his own voice. “Please rest my love.” 

A fragile hand rested on his face once more. It was as if she was checking he was real. 

“How long was I gone?” she said quietly, caressing his hair, sliding her fingers back to gently feel his silken black locks entwine against her skin. 

“A fortnight.” He said. Her face fell. 

“It was months for me.” She said, pulling him in for a kiss. “Months of fighting. Of helping those in need. Of thinking that when I return… when I came back you’d still be here, waiting for me.” She gasped against his lips between kisses, feverish and tear filled. 

He felt his stomach churn with guilt. To think two weeks for him was suffering enough, that she had to endure months tugged at his heart in different directions. His angst had consumed him. A cold fire that had filled him to the point he may burst. His relief, his salve from this longing lay in his arms, smiling at him between tender plucks of his lips.

“You’re here now. To me that is all that matters.” Aymeric said. “No amount of time in another world would ever diminish how I feel. You know this.” He wrapped another arm around her, being careful not to tire her. He dipped his face into her hair again, taking in the scent of the oils and her own smell, relishing every second of it. 

“I don’t want to leave your side.” He resolved, sliding further into the bed and laying next to her, cradling her against his arms. 

“But your duties as Lord Commander,” the warrior said, nuzzling herself into him as much as she could, her eyes half closed as she looked up at him through eyelashes. 

“Nothing Lucia cannot manage.” He smiled warmly, letting out a small sigh as she laced more kisses against his neck. 

Without warning she shifted quickly, wrapping a leg around him and pulling on the fabric of his blue shirt so that she straddled him upright. He looked up at her, staring at her in wonder. He traced his fingers lightly over her face, along her neckline and over her shoulder as she simply looked down at him, her eyes glistening with tears. The fire behind her illuminated her in ways Aymeric imagined only Halone could appear to the denizens of Ishgard. 

“You’re beautiful. Praise Halone for me to be gifted someone like you. I love you so very much.” He said breathlessly. She grinned lopsidedly, her old demeanor returning to her as she blushed. He felt his heart tumble as she did, happiness coursing through him.

“Hush.” She said. “Such honeyed words humble me so- ah-” She winced slightly, leaning forward with fatigue.

Aymeric caught her, letting her slowly fall onto his chest as she splayed her arms across his shirt, dipping under buttons that had come undone and resting across bareskin. She lazily caressed him, making a small noise in satisfaction.

His breath hitched slightly at the sensation, but he pushed thoughts of any consummating the beginning of their relationship quickly to the side. He was only human after all, but he dare not indulge them at such a fragile and delicate time. 

They lay like that for many hours, only the sound of the fire crackling and bells tolling across the city echoed through the atmosphere. 

The whole time she slept Aymeric rested too, occasionally waking to find his love still in the same position against him, a deep slumber as she breathed heavily against his shirt. 

“Aymeric?” The warrior finally said, mumbling against him as she woke with a start.

“I’m still here.” He said idly, raising a hand to stroke her hair. 

“I feel I have something to confess if we are to have an honest relationship.” She began. 

“Oh?” 

“Well.” She rubbed the edge of shirt between her fingers, looking at it as she chose her words carefully. “One of the Scions may have declared their feelings to me before I came back here. Of course I let them down, for that was not how I felt in return but I feel I should tell you these things-” She had started to ramble, but her lifted her towards him, dipping her had towards him as he captured her in a deep kiss. His tongue roamed into her lips as they parted, tangling with hers, silken, wet. 

With the little energy she had she returned with great fervour, sighing into his kiss with a slight moan. 

They pulled away, and he chuckled again at her as she watched his face carefully for a response. 

“Was it Thancred?” He said, playful in tone, intertwining his hands with hers and bringing them to his chest. She blushed.

“Y-yes- how did you-” 

Aymeric’s eyes lowered, giving her a confident smirk. 

“He has no chance against me.” 

The warriors face lit up with awe and hilarity at his response, laughing to the point it hurt her chest and she nipped his ear playfully to chide him for being so bold. Aymeric felt his very soul dance along to her laugh, could he not just ask this woman to wed him now? His roaming hands scooped her against him once more, trailing his nose against her jawline. 

“Besides…” he uttered “Has he seen the size of my sword?”


	7. Ascian (Aymeric/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little something different, something I had been thinking about for a while. What if Aymeric had been taken over by an Ascian?

You fidgeted with your outfit, letting yourself straighten out the fabric as it creased where you sat. The great oak chair creaked as you moved, as you gazed at the man in front of you. He was staring at you with great interest, his crystal blue eyes pouring over your form. 

But this wasn’t the Lord Commander you had agreed to have dinner with. At least you weren’t sure if it was Ser Aymeric.

Something seemed amiss. 

As he placed the wine glass down upon the table he gently poised his hand under his chin, caressing his bottom lip with his finger. You smiled at him, taking a sip of your own wine. If anything, the wine was delicious. A deep red that blossomed over your tongue, the flavours of summer fruits prickling along your tastebuds. 

“My lady you seem quiet tonight, I wish to hear the exciting tales of your adventures! Please indulge me in such follies, if I were not duty bound to Ishgard I’d have begged you to take me with you.” 

His voice was low, honeyed words from his usual silver tongue. You felt your face flush. Was it the heat of the fireplace? No, it was the way he was looking at you, his eyelids were lowered slightly, as he stared at you. 

You began to regale your adventures thus far, the wine had managed to loosen you up a little and you became more expressive with each story that passed your lips. Aymeric seemed to enjoy every moment, savouring your presence like one would enjoy a beautiful vista. He was intoxicated by you. It showed. He was leaning over the table, ignoring his food and smiling and nodding and laughing along. 

But again your gut twinged as you caught the ends of his laugh, as if realising a song you once enjoyed carried an odd tone that you hadn’t realised was off until the final notes faded away. 

Yet you didn’t question it. At this point you feared the alcohol was playing with your instincts. You let it take you away, the warmth of the room and the delicious meal was comforting and of course the handsome man in front of you alluring.

Well, the handsome man that _had been_ in front of you. 

As your felt your tired form lean back into the chair, Aymeric had stood up quietly from his seat and paced the room, holding his glass of wine. You closed your eyes for a moment, ignoring the soft click that quickly faded from your senses and curiosity as to what it was.

“My lady I were to be so bold, I feel I have something to confess.” He said, idly looking around the room before his stare fell back to you. You smiled, heart fluttering. 

“Since your arrival to Ishgard I have found you nothing short of incredible. A woman after my own heart with her strength and prowess on the battlefield, yet beautiful and serene when we share such quiet moments together.” He smiled, lost in his own words. He approached your chair, leaning past you to place the wine glass down. You could feel his breath against your ear as he leaned in close. His hands trailed along the top of your seat before he folded his arms, resting his chin on them. 

“My lady… the Warrior of Light.” Aymeric breathed, leaning closer from behind you. “I can’t think of no other woman I’d want to make mine.” 

Your breath stopped as if your heart had been caught in your throat. You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out, you were unsure what to say as you felt a fire swell from within your chest. 

“Is it exciting, to have such power?” Aymeric said, his voice husky in your ear. He let his fingers gently caress across your exposed neckline, lightly grazing them down your arms as he reached over, tracing the outline of your right hand. You gasped. 

“The power to destroy Primals, to slay those who stand in your way.” His hand entangled with yours as his other hand roamed free, following the same actions as before, only this time he ghosted the outline of your chest through the light fabric of the dress you were wearing. Your breathing became heavy. 

You couldn't see him for he was behind you, but glancing over at the wine glass you could make out his reflection. He was leaning so close to you now. You let out a small soft moan as his lips found their way close to your neck. 

“I want you.” He growled. “Oh the things I would do to you, you would plead for more. No man could ever satisfy such a powerful creature like I could.” 

You said his name, feeling your chest swell as your body fell tense to his words. They addled themselves through your head, your minds eye starting to think of what he could do to you. You felt your stomach swirl with excitement and your breath hitched as with one curled finger, Ser Aymeric turned your head to face his. 

His lips plunged themselves onto yours, rough, unabiding. He growled low into you as he drank up your presence. You were aflame with pleasure, that when he let his teeth fiercely bite down onto your lower lip and drew blood, it only increased the passion. His hand that had been grazing across your chest made its way up to your neck, fingers lazily drawing circles around the soft skin. 

The intensity and passion of the moment was so overwhelming, your ears felt drowned out of anything else happening. 

Even the frantic sounds of thudding as people thundered into the main hallway of the manor, muffled by the great oak doors to the dining room being shut. 

You ignored the drowned out sounds of a voice exclaiming something, the words of “Warrior of Light” and “Ascian” coming through like desperate shouts.

Aymeric moaned into your ear “Such a beautiful creature. So fragile, so serene.” 

There were loud bangs on the dining room door. The dining room door that somewhere a voice in your mind said quietly _he locked it._

“I have wanted this moment for so long.” He gasped against you, feeling his fingers elegantly close themselves around your neck as your eyes widened. 

They tightened. With one violent jolt he had pulled you upwards and you were winded, your own hands suddenly grabbing his.

He was looking at you, a fierce sinister smile curled across his face. You gasped his name. He laughed coldly. He licked his lips, tasting your blood and letting out a small satisfied moan. 

“And now. Now you’re _mine_.”


	8. Namesday Gift (Estinien/WoL)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little silly fluff and tormenting of Estinien's feelings for a change! Estinien being a brooding mess was really fun to write!

By the Fury, it tormented him, a frustrating pain that wove through every fibre of his being. Whenever he gave it a moments thought he’d find his head hurting in frustration, exclaiming expletives out loud in fury and kicking the nearest object to vent. 

Not even being possessed by the eyes of Nidhogg caused him this much distress. 

And all over what to get the Warrior of Light for her namesday as a present. 

It was soon, very soon. The excited chatter discussing her namesday that filled the air in House Fortemps whenever Estinien visited was like a sickly perfume. He couldn’t be rid of it, it followed him like an unwanted scent, polluting his thoughts. To him, these social events were like learning a new language, a complex series of actions that was alien to him. He was not one for fully knowing the correct etiquette in the High Houses of Ishgard. 

So thus the question was:

 _How_ , nay, _what_ do you get someone you have feelings for as a gift their namesday. But also let them know how you feel without saying anything? 

Estinien had sought the counsel of his closest friend, Ser Aymeric, but instantly regretted the decision as the knight gently teased him and of his feelings for the warrior, suggesting he take her for a romantic meal and to confess how he felt and shower her with the finest of jewellery.

Though Aymeric gave him honeyed, delicate words for which he could use to charm the young warrior, Estinien in his stubbornness rejected it, feeling he was being mocked. 

Aymeric tried to stifle a smirk. “Well I daresay my friend, that Haurchefant will not be any more help to you and your predicament.” 

Aymeric was right, he was not. 

“By the gods, Estinien! My beautiful strong friend, you wish to court the warrior of light on her namesday!?” 

Estinien felt his fingers clench into a fist, nails digging into his skin as he forced a shallow smile. Everything about this felt stupid to him. 

The only thing that didn’t feel stupid, was the way the warrior made his chest heave whenever she entered the room. Her smile made his heart do something uncomfortable yet pleasant, like the feeling one gets have when sinking into a hot bath for the first time and adjusting to that pleasant warmth that seeps through you. The way she looked at him, that mischievous adventuring sparkle in her eyes like stars that shone boldly in the cold winter sky made his brain disconnect from the rest of his body, sense flew out the window and he would have this manic urge to grab her and whisper things in her ear and plaster her with rough kisses- 

“Pray let me indulge you into a little plan that will absolutely work.” Haurchefant’s cheerful voice pierced through the dragoon’s thoughts. He leaned in closely, steadying his excited words into a whisper. “First take her to behind the Vault, there is a small alley there that has the most beautiful view of the rooftops of Ishgard. Then when she’s in your arms you should-” 

Estinien was listening intently, giving the House Fortemps knight a chance to bequeath advice on how to woo the warrior light. But this chance, he realised again, filled him immediately with regret.

Haurchefant didn’t have the capacity to finish what he was trying to explain to Estinien, mostly because he had to dodge a fleeting swing from the Dragoon’s spear. 

Laughing dirtily he called, “Trust me she’ll be screaming your name after this my friend!”

Estinien growled at him, he felt a fool for trusting Haurchefant wouldn’t suggest something that was nothing short of extremely explicit and nigh impossible to do unless he could procure a jar of the finest honey from the Black Shroud…

\---

“Estinien, I know you are not one to part with words often but I must ask, what ails you so?” 

He was sitting in the Forgotten Knight, nursing a flagon of ale and staring darkly at the table in front of him. With a random blade he was carving idly nonsensical symbols into the alcohol stained oak of the bar he leant on. Though normally the bartender would request someone vandalising their property to desist with such actions, they dared not interrupt the Azure Dragoon and his brooding. 

However Alphinaud had quietly slid into the stool next to him, carefully watching the man whom he admired greatly wear the face of someone deep in contemplative distress. 

It had taken Estinien a moment to acknowledge someone had even spoken to him, before he glanced to his left and gave Alphinaud a rare smirk. 

“Nothing that would concern someone of few summers like you, boy.” Estinien grunted, twirling the knife on it’s point as it spun into the wood. 

Tentatively, Alphinaud watched his actions. Being a gentleman of discussion and words rather than acting out like his sister, the young elezen carefully pondered how to draw out what was troubling the man so. 

“Is it Nidhogg? Are you still experiencing troubles though he is slain and his eyes cast into the bottomless caverns below?” Alphinaud said, craning his neck to try and discern any reaction. 

Grey blue eyes narrowed, his white hair fell forward as Estinien tilted his head to one side and heaving a large sigh. “Nay, boy. Like I said before-” His voice was thick with unamusement “It is something you would be too young to understand.” 

Alphinaud snaked his neck back. Though he was young, this did not mean his age was any indication of how intelligent he was. The realisation of the burden Estinien carried hit him and the young elezen felt his ears prickle with heat. A small blush swept across his face as his words stuttered themselves out of his mouth. “Oh- oh I realise now. You mean to say that I would not be one to understand the affairs of the heart?” 

It was a bold statement, but it was clear Alphinaud would persist until Estinien had shared what was bothering him. The dragoon’s lips pursed into a straight line and he turned his head to stare right at Alphinaud. 

Estinien felt the blood rush to his cheeks as he tried to keep a straight face. His silence spoke volumes and Alphinaud’s eyes lit up at the joy of figuring it out. 

“It is! Isn’t it?” Alphinaud eagerly said, leaning forward in the stool, his voice excitable “Wait who is it? No, wait. I can figure this out. It must be someone who you would find it hard to openly tell. Wait.” Alphinaud’s hand had flown this his chin as he looked intently at the dirty floor of the inn. “It’s someone importantly, clearly as they would not have you brooding so much.” His eyes travelled back up to meet Estinien, who was still staring with such ire. 

Alphinaud gasped. “Our dear Warrior of Light! Namesday! Present!” The words came out of him like prompts and Estinien continued to glare, not saying a word. Though his ears were that of a deep red now and Alphinaud realised he had gone too far. 

“Boy, either give me a solution now or by the Fury herself so help me I will send you flying across the rooftops of the godsdamned Pillars-” 

Alphinaud’s hands flew up in defense. “Pray forgive me for prying, Estinien, I did not mean to tread so close to something so personal!” 

Oh he did. Estinien thought. Like an annoying little brother. 

In one smooth movement Estinien shifted from his stool, slamming some coin down onto the bar and grunting as he started to shift towards the stairs leading out of the bar. “I have no time for such trivial follies.” 

Alphinaud stared, flustered. 

“Just draw her.” 

Alphinaud blurted the words and Estinien stopped, foot mid step upon the stairwell. 

“Excuse me?” He turned his head. His hands thrust into his pockets as he leered. Alphinaud went red. 

“I just mean- uh. When I wanted to um. Show off to uh… girls.” He minced his words and Estinien huffed. 

“Spit it out boy!” The dragoon barked… and Alphinaud jumped in his seat a little, his braid bristled in shock.

Estinien’s impatience and frustration, mixed with the idle way thoughts of the warrior swam through his mind, all came together into a hormonal mix to make the man feel like he was a besottedly enamoured and frustrated teenager all over again. 

“I became quite talented with the ways of sketching, and because of that I would draw ladies I wished to um. Impress upon.” Alphinaud stammered. “So I suppose what I am trying to say is make a drawing of your… uh beloved. It is personal and heartfelt and I am sure it will delight her.” 

Estinien’s eyes narrowed again as he scowled. Though Alphinaud noticed the corners of his lips twitch upwards ever so slightly. Alphinaud continued. 

“It will work. Trust me. She already has feelings for you.” Alphinaud blurted. Then his hands flew up to his mouth at the shock of what he said. He squeaked slightly. “You- you didn’t hear that from me though!” 

For the first time all day, the dragoon’s grisled expression softened a little. He nodded at the young elezen before proceeding to step slowly up the stairs leaving Alphinaud to mumble into his hands “Gods what have I said? She will surely kill me if she finds out I brazenly revealed her feelings. By the Twelve help me…” 

\---

The warrior of light sighed happily, smiling as she entered the room to her friends, eyes falling upon the small table piled with gifts in the main room of the House Fortemps manor. 

A few select of her companions had all gathered to celebrate her namesday, she had requested something small. Haurchefant, being one of grand gestures had decorated the cosy main living room, delicious foods and wines lined the tables as everyone sat in the plush seats to celebrate. 

At his insistence, she was told to open Haurchefants presents first, his reaction to each and every one brought him delight as like a child he excitedly bounced around her, cuddling her every time she thanked him. Chocolates of every flavour, expensive silk clothing and exciting books were some of which Haurchefant had given her. 

 

“You are but the best among us.” He exclaimed, “And thusly so you deserve the best too.” 

Ser Aymeric had given her a leather journal and a beautiful ink and quill set for her to record her adventures with. She thanked him kindly and he smiled, watching her unwrap his final present. A small jar of birch syrup. 

“Ah yes, my one vice.” Aymeric said smiling, “I do recommend you add this to your tea in the mornings, it is the most delightful thing.” 

The warrior thanked him, Haurchefants eyes gleaned at the jar of syrup. 

“I wonder if Estinien used something similar…” Haurchefant had a dirty smirk on his face, which the warrior did not notice nor hear fully all his words. But Ser Aymeric certainly did and in return chuckled, knowing full well of his friend Haurchefants terribly explicit stories with the maidens of Ishgard.

“Speaking of.” The warrior said, standing up and looking around the room at everyone present “Where is dear Estinien?” her face was crestfallen. 

In perfect timing, the doors of the main room swung open, Estinien stood, blinking at everyone who turned to look at him. He had made an attempt to dress for the occasion, a deep purple shirt neatly tucked into his dress trousers, something Alphinaud had fawned over perfecting for him. Several buttons were dishevelled and undone at the top of his shirt, something Estinien had hastily done after leaving the clutches of Alphinaud prior to the gathering. 

The warrior smiled warmly at him, and he felt a heat spread across his face as people welcomed him, then turned back to their small conversations. 

“By Halone I thought you’d never turn up.” Haurchefant sung, bouncing over the sofa he sat in and greeted his friend, “And what have we here?” 

“Nothing that concerns you.” Estinien hissed quietly, trying to not draw attention. But it was too late, the warrior had approached him. Haurchefant ducked around playfully behind Estinien to see what he was holding behind his back. “By the gods, Estinien dare I say you have made the effort to bring our dear warrior a gift?” 

Estinien’s mind was being pulled in two directions at this moment.

One direction was telling him to grab Haurchefant and violently throw him through the nearest window, perhaps catching him mid plunge then carrying him over the rooftops of Ishgard to then abandon on the highest spire with nothing but his smallclothes on, to perish in the icy cold of the Holy See. 

The other part of his mind was telling him repeatedly to look at the woman in front of him and admire how beautiful she looked. The warrior of light wore a simple cotton dress with delicate lacing, a thick cardigan to keep her warm made of the finest wool was draped over her shoulders. His eyes wandered to the slight exposed skin of her legs and he felt his mind spin at the thought of just picking her up and- 

These two conflicting thoughts, violence, and romance, caused Estinien to don a muddled, contorted expression. He had the politest smile he could muster, yet his brow was furrowed to the point the warrior placed her hands on either side of his arms and look at him concerned. 

“Estinien, are you ok?” She said softly. Haurchefant’s laugh spiralled around the two of them, as he knew full well what Estinien was struggling with. 

“Oh my lady, believe me he is truly fine, he just hasn’t been able to figure out how to act around someone he desire-” Haurchefant once again was not permitted to finish his sentence. Instead, one long wheeze escaped his lips as Estinien swiftly and with great precision, brought his elbow into perfect contact with his ribs. 

The arm her had used, with coincidence, was holding something intended for the warrior. It was flat, a little dishevelled and wrapped with great urgency. A ribbon was hastily tied around it. 

“Here. For you.” Estinien said bluntly, trying to let his hair hide his ears, for they were burning red. 

Delicately she took it, her eyes crinkled from the joy that swept across her face as she looked at him. He found he couldn’t stare at her too long, the way she looked at him made him want to violently curl up into a ball. He tore his gaze away from her, cocking his head to watch Haurchefant instead recover from his blow. 

“Thank you.” She said. Small fingers tugged lightly at the silk bow (a deep red in colour) and with great ease both the wrapping and the ribbon fell away. 

The room had fallen quiet, for their curiosity had been piqued as soon as the noise of Haurchefant stumbling and wheezing met their ears.

Estinien watched with bated breath as the warrior’s eyes fell across the thick parchment she held in her hand.

It was a little smudged, but nothing that didn’t add to the aesthetic of the charcoal drawing. 

Looking off into the distance and smiling slightly, was the way Estinien had captured the warrior in the sketch. Her mouth fell open slightly as her eyes glistened, taking in the drawing he had made of her. 

“When did you- This is from life?” She gasped, still staring in awe, eyes wide. 

“So _that_ is what you were hunched over doing at the far end of the table at dinner a few nights prior!” Haurchefant’s sing song voice broke the tension. He had found his composure again and was by Estinien’s side, giving him a smug nudge. Estinien ignored him. All he could see was the woman in front of him, receiving the gift he had been so nervous to compose and give. 

His stomach felt like it was made of the hardest, coldest, steel Ishgard could find. His toes curled in his shoes and his hands felt clammier than the most heated battle he had ever partook in. His throat was dry, if he spoke now he’d sound like an idiot. Gods he wished he was fighting Nidhogg again. _Bastard feelings_ , he thought, _is this worth it_? 

“It’s beautiful.” She said, her cheeks blossoming into a fine shade of pink. 

“It’s you.” He choked on his words as her eyes rose to meet his and he tried to clear his throat but the sound of his voice kept coming out in a slight stammer. “Y- You’re beautiful.” 

If it were possible, the sound of Haurchefant’s jaw hitting the floor would have been heard. 

Not even Estien’s spear could cut through the tense air that fell between him and the warrior. 

But instead, something else did. 

It happened before even his own masterful reflexes could register it. 

She had leaned upwards towards him, balancing on her toes and in such a careful and delicate manner, placed her lips gently against his. She leaned back after, smiling, looking bashful. It was over too quickly for him.

He felt his face melt, along with the tension. A long surprised growl quietly escaped him. Haurchefants heavy breathing at the scene before him couldn’t even ruin this moment. His heart felt like it had stopped entirely, lying still in his aching chest. 

“I love it. Thank you so very much Estinien.” The warrior said, her eyes sparkling. 

If he could, there and then he’d scoop her up and savage her face with his lips. But nay, this was a formal occasion and he felt his inner mind grumble and relent to polite Ishgardian custom of courting. It was like he remembered what to do merely out of survival instincts. Just this once. Just for her. 

He bowed down, taking her free hand and brought the back of it to his lips, pressing a small kiss against her smooth soft skin. 

“It pleases me so that my lady approves.” He said simply and roughly, feigning the urge to tug her towards him and whisk her away to an empty room. His breath hitched when he heard her gasp, and he stared deeply into her eyes. 

“Estinien I-” she said. But couldn’t finish what she wanted to say. 

Everyone in the room was in stunned silence. The Azure Dragoon to have feelings? Yes, Estinien could probably guess what everyone was thinking. From the corner of the room his ears could make out Alphinaud’s almost inaudible statement. “He did it, he bloody did it.” 

A loud snap cracked through the room, Haurchefant had clapped his hands together in joy, his shite eating grin spoke volumes. 

“What a beautiful display of affection, my two companions, together at last!” He bounced around the two of them. “Now we just need to find you that pot of honey and then you both can be on your merry way!” 

The warrior giggled. “Pray tell, what is this about honey?” The House Fortemps knight gave her a sly smile, placing an arm around her and began to lead her back to the group of guests, who were still staring in quiet surprise. 

The silence of this quiet surprise however, was soon broken. 

“Haurchefant.” Estinien growled, his voice quivering with unbridled rage, embarrassment fueling every muscle in his being to act relentlessly.

“Yes my dear friend?” Haurchefant turned to look at him, his smile never faltering even when he read Estinien’s expression. “Oh, why are you looking at me so?” 

There was no sign of a scuffle, for the knight did not see it coming. 

A sudden uproar of shouts burst through the chamber as the party watched in horror, shouting at Estinien to stop. 

Estinien had grabbed Haurchefant effortlessly around the waist, slung him over his shoulder and was proceeding to the nearest window.


End file.
